


This Is The Map Of My Heart

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Wire in the Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1629500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post episode 3x03 (Nothing But The Night). "When it comes down to it, after all these years, this job, this position, is all have."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Map Of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to lookatmoiye7, who not only beta read, but also kept me sane through the writing process. Love!
> 
> Written for Blacksquirrel

 

 

"D'you think you'll have to go shopping soon?" Tony asks, surveying the pile of discarded items in the corner.

She chuckles, gazing at the mess mournfully. Her apartment's been in a right state for a few days, ever since that Canadian woman, Patricia, decided to trash it. It was only now that she'd actually had time to make a start on cleaning things up. "I think I'm definitely going to have to buy a few new cushions. And a lamp or two. Maybe some more paintings." 

"I'd say that would be a good idea." There's a pause as he shifts on the floor next to her. "At least we got the writing off."

"True. The word 'bitch' in huge letters wasn't the most attractive decoration I've ever had." 

He laughs genuinely, and she can't help but smile. "I wouldn't be recommending it to anyone as a home renovation masterpiece, no."

"Could've been worse, I s'pose." 

Her comments draw vehement nod, mood a little more serious in the face of the possibilities. "Like I said, Carol. The woman's capable of anything." 

"Clearly." She takes a sip of her wine, watching as he seemingly struggles with something. 

"I'm sorry, Carol." 

The guilt in his tone is unmistakable, and now it's her turn to frown. "What for?"

He gestures broadly around the room at the mess that, even after a solid hour of cleaning, still surrounds them. "For what happened here, what she did. For the risks I exposed you to. I should've known she'd do something like this."

The concern's real, and she takes a moment to bask in it before reverting back to humour. "The pitfalls of marrying so quickly."

His eye roll is well-practiced, and she suppresses a smile. 

His eyes close momentarily, and she takes the opportunity to just _look_ at him without consequence. She traces the strong lines of his shoulders, down to the bare skin of his forearms, feeling the familiar rush of desire. 

It's ignoring it that's the hard thing

She diverts her eyes just as his open, and in one motion, he's standing, hand extended to help her up. "Come on. If I sit on the floor a moment longer, I won't be able to walk for a week."

"Must be the old age setting in." she jokes, taking his hand and hauling herself up.

It's not until they collapse onto the couch that the events of the past week truly hit her. She's completely drained, and the rush of fatigue is more than a little frightening.

She catches him frowning at her, and wonders if she looks as terrible as she feels, and why she only ever worries about stuff like her appearance when he's around. "What?"

He's hesitant, and the sudden switch from light-hearted banter to awkwardness might be amusing, if it wasn't so well rehearsed. "Are you alright? You just seem..."

He trails off, and she immediately knows why: this whole moment is creeping closer and closer to something dangerously personal. She's presented with two options- be honest for once and open up, or simply slip back in to tried-and-trusted avoidance with some daft excuse.

She's almost, _almost_ ready to take the leap and actually let him in, but then there's the wife and the no chit-chat and the whole have-you-loved-anyone-else debacle, and it's enough. She's had enough. "I'm just tired."

His eyes narrow, as if to gauge the level of sincerity. "Are you sure that's all?"

The question falls with a genuine softness, and it's more than a little surprising, his sudden eagerness to push. "I don't know..." she manages, eyes dropping to the floor. "It's part of it." 

She's still a little vague, because really, vulnerability at a time like this is a risk she can't afford to take, but at the same time, he's _trying_. 

Isn't that exactly what she's always wanted?

"I just... Do you ever feel like there should be more? You know, to all this? I mean, I worked my whole life to get to this point. Now I'm here, and it's... not quite what I expected."

"You're not enjoying work anymore?" He asks with genuine surprise.

"I enjoy putting away people who deserve it. That moment when we make a breakthrough on the case. It's just the bits before that, I s'pose. And it's not just the job. I mean, when it comes down to it, after all these years, this job, this position, is all have." 

Her words seem to linger in the air between them and she _hates_ how unstrung she feels. Like she's at his mercy.

He shifts a little closer, pressing gently into her side, and she sits stock still as he just gazes at her. "That's not true."

The words are unexpected to say the least, and taunt her cruelly. She desperately wants to believe in the tantalising prospect of some deeper implication, but really, this is Tony she's talking about. "No?"

"Not at all." The intensity of his gaze is blinding now, and she feels paralysed under its weight. The seconds tick by and the anticipation's enormous, rising impossibly higher as he leans a little closer. "You've still got Nelson, remember?"

She summons up a chuckle, but the bitter tinge is unmistakable, and she feels a little ill. He's just trying to lighten the mood, relieve the tension, but really, it's just another kind of avoidance, and she's bloody _sick_ of it. 

She tears her eyes away and makes a move to stand, to do anything to distract herself from the sting of stupidity she feels for daring to think that maybe this moment, this level of honesty, would provoke a different kind of reaction.

She just manages to get up when his hand lands on her arm, stopping her in her tracks as he stands to join her. He's close now, eyes pleading, and somehow, despite all her frustration, she can't make herself move away.

"Carol..." 

"I can't keep doing this, Tony. I can't keep pretending." The words tumble out of their own accord, and it's terrifying, her sudden inability to be anything other then honest. She hates that it sounds so much like an ultimatum, but maybe that's what they've come to, because this is something she's thought far too often lately.

His hand is warm, fingers still curled around her wrist to keep her in place. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at this talking-about-your-feelings thing." He takes a breath, slow and steadying. "I don't know how to be. Never learnt."

His words trigger an avalanche of thoughts, memories racing through one by one until she settles on the most important. "Your parents?"

A nod, forced, and he swallows hard, fingers pressing harder into her arm. "Let's just say that personal emotions weren't exactly discussed around the dinner table."

His tone belies the light nature of the words and she gets it: there's something painful about this brand of honesty, about having to rip the words from the deepest parts of yourself.

"I do understand, you know." There's a step forward, free hand rising to gently pry his fingers from her wrist. She slides her hand into his and the fit feels perfect, thumb soothing over his skin. "I'm not particularly good at this either. I'm just asking you to try. For me."

His eyes drop, breaking the gaze as he sighs almost dejectedly. "Sometimes I wonder why you still bother with me." 

The desperation in his voice is striking, and she wonders if this is the answer. If this is why he's so scared of _them_. 

Her free hand rises without conscious thought to cup his jaw, fingers sliding over his skin. "I'm not going anywhere. No matter what happens." 

"You sure?" he whispers, as if scared noise will shatter the intimacy of the moment. His breath is warm against her face, and she swears they're closer then they were a second ago.

A pause, settling as she allows herself an indulgence, thumb brushing over his lips. "Promise."

There's a moment of stasis, mutual uncertainty preventing any sort of movement, before she takes a breath.

She knows what she _wants_ to do. It's just actually doing it that makes her hesitate. But this time, it's different. This time, she's not backing away.

The gap between them disintegrates as she presses her lips against his, almost tentatively. After a second of indecision she feels him give in, dropping her hand to move his to her waist. His hand slides under her top to caress the soft skin at her hip and she can't suppress a moan.

Kissing Tony is everything and nothing like she imagined, lips parting to allow his tongue to caress hers. It's slow, intimate, and oh god, she's waited such a long time for this. 

Seconds later, she's pulling back, if only to catch her breath. He doesn't move, and she's still acutely aware of the skin-on-skin sensation. 

"Stay." she blurts, heart pounding and head spinning. She knows she's moving fast, pushing hard for what she wants, but it feels too right to ignore.

She just hopes he feels the same.

He doesn't react, and she's nervous now, because what if it's too much? What if she's pushed _too_ hard and he's not ready, or he doesn't want--

His lips on hers drown out any further doubts.

 


End file.
